Gold
by The Feisty Rogue
Summary: Draco's soul mark is bronze when it burns onto his skin in the early morning of his fifteenth birthday.


Draco's soul mark is bronze when it burns onto his skin in the early morning of his fifteenth birthday. Bronze means that his soulmate hasn't received theirs yet, which isn't ideal, but it could be worse, it could be black. However, he has no idea what his soul mark actually is.

It's a triangle, containing a circle, bisected by a vertical line. Thanks a lot, soulmate lottery.

It turns gold mid-summer. Draco's not actually sure when, which is very stupid when he thinks about it, but he'd spent the month following its arrival covering it up as much as possible, so one day he just gets out the shower, and there it is, a stupid diagram on his chest, glowing golden.

It makes him feel better, that golden glow. There's someone out there who will love him irrevocably, someone other than his mother, that is. It makes up for the stupid fucking triangle on his chest.

Back at school news rapidly gets around that Potter gained an enormous soul mark on his birthday. Apparently, it's a gorgeous golden snitch. Typical fucking luck, that Potter gets something so beautiful. Draco does his best not to feel too bitter, and if he picks on Potter even more that year, well, it's expected of him.

Sixth year suddenly approaches, and with that, all thoughts of Draco's soulmate go out the window. He's busy keeping himself alive after fucking Potter and his fucking sycophants landed his father in Azkaban, and the Dark Lord is most displeased.

Occasionally he touches his chest, just to remind himself that he's still alive, and so is his soulmate. It reassures him as he desperately tries to fix the vanishing cabinet, and is fumbling his way around killing Dumbledore.

Then Potter finds him crying in the bathroom. Curses are flung, and suddenly Draco's lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor. Who'd have thought Potter had it in him?

"No!" Potter cries, pressing his hand to Draco's chest.

Something miraculous happens. The pain recedes, overwhelmed by serenity. The gashes in his chest no longer feel like they're splitting him in half. Draco forces his eyes open. Potter's staring at his chest, horrified, as it knits itself back together under his touch.

Draco's soul mark is glowing.

Potter throws himself away from Draco, holding his bloodied hands before him as if they're a part of him he's never seen before. Draco pushes himself up and warily touches his chest. It's completely healed, not even a scar.

He knows what that means. He refuses to acknowledge it.

It seems that Potter's thinking exactly the same thing. He rushes out of the bathroom. Draco sighs, and lies back down on the floor. He almost wishes Potter hadn't fixed him.

In the final year of bloodshed and war, Draco can't help but check his soul mark daily. It's golden, always and wonderfully golden. He realises early on that he wants it to stay that way. Draco hates the Dark Lord more than he'd ever hated anyone. He wants Potter to live, and the Dark Lord to die. Every night he presses a hand to his chest, and wishes Potter luck on his mad quest.

When Potter ends up in Malfoy Manner, Draco's not surprised. Potter's a fucking idiot, after all. He lies for Potter, and the gratitude in Potter's gaze makes him feel sick.

Did Potter think he wouldn't protect him? He may be an idiot, but he's Draco's idiot.

The next time they meet the Dark Lord is waging war upon Hogwarts. Potter rescues him, twice, and then he disappears.

When Draco sees Potter's dead body in the half-giant's arms, his heart drops out of his stomach. He rips his shirt open, expecting black, the colour of death, black, the idea of a world without Potter, black, the way Draco is feeling.

It's gold, impossibly. He gasps in relief, and looks closer. His mother looks terrified, and keeps glancing at Potter in trepidation. She knows he's alive, then, somehow.

Neville Longbottom, of all people, stands up to the Dark Lord, and kills his snake. In the following commotion, Potter disappears from where he'd been dumped onto the floor.

Then he's standing in the Great Hall, the first rays of sun upon his face, and somehow Voldemort is dead, he's dead, and Potter's alive, despite having been hit with the killing curse. Again.

It takes Potter three days to come and find him. Draco's father's been arrested, but his mother has been left alone, likely thanks to Potter proclaiming that she'd saved his life.

"Hey," Potter says. They're alone in a corridor. Draco says nothing. Potter shrugs out of his shirt, and turns his back on Draco, and he gets his first glance of the magnificent mark on Potter's back. Draco's mark. He's feeling rather smug about that.

He can't hold back a gasp when he touches the soul mark, and his hearth soars. He edges closer, brushing his hand across Potter's back. The snitch starts glowing, the wings fluttering and Potter sighs.

"Me, and you, Malfoy, how about it?"

Draco chokes on a laugh, and lets Potter kiss him.


End file.
